


Rewind

by embarrassing old stuff from LJ pre-2015 (prevaricator)



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, fade-out sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:06:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prevaricator/pseuds/embarrassing%20old%20stuff%20from%20LJ%20pre-2015
Summary: Koyama finds an old video.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Repost from LJ

**Title:** Rewind  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Koyama/Yamapi  
**Warnings:** angst, fade-out sex  
**Word Count:** 790  
**Summary:** Koyama finds an old video.

  
It's on a small, red flash drive Koyama runs across one day when he's cleaning his room. He stares at the flash drive for a minute, wondering what to do with it. Knowing what's on it, the only proper thing to do is probably to throw it out. It's dangerous to have lying around, and it seems wrong to watch it when he and Yamapi have long since broken up.

But the decision wasn't Koyama's, and he's never had the kind of willpower it would take to resist this. He sets it aside while he finishes cleaning, hoping he'll forget about it, but in the end he opens his computer and plugs it in. He opens the only file on it.

The video comes on with an image of Yamapi lying on a bed, shirtless and laughing.

_“Why?” the Yamapi on screen asks, one hand moving up as if to block the camera, but a hand (Koyama's own, he knows) comes up to bat it away._

_“Because you're pretty,” Koyama's voice says._

_And it's true. Yamapi is looking somewhere a bit above the camera, smile still lingering on his face._

It's from sometime during Winter Party Diamond, after Yamapi had gotten the perm, and long before he'd had to diet for Ashita no Joe. Koyama only vaguely remembers the night; he knows that he was tipsy, and that Yamapi was so perfect that night, he wanted to keep him that way forever.

He wishes he could have.

In the video, Yamapi looks happy and carefree, and Koyama wants to stop the video because it hurts to watch, but he can’t look away.

_Yamapi grins and grabs the camera. After a startled yelp from Koyama and much shaking around, it focuses again on Koyama's face._

_“Well, you're pretty, too,” Yamapi's voice says from behind the camera, laughing._

_Koyama laughs and hides his face against Yamapi's chest. After a moment, he looks up at the camera again and playfully runs his teeth over skin._

_The screen jolts and bounces around a bit. When it focuses again, Yamapi is leaning back from placing it on something, probably the nightstand._

_The new angle is awkward, and not much other than Koyama's back is visible until Yamapi rolls on top of him and into view, pushing Koyama out of the frame in the process. From the smirk he gives the camera, he's deliberately putting himself back in the frame._

The video after that is just Yamapi, but Koyama watches, captivated, until Yamapi shudders and drops from view, and a hand comes up and shuts off the camera.

Caught up in memories, Koyama doesn't move from his chair for a long time.

 _You've changed,_ were Yamapi's parting words, something about Koyama growing up and not being the same person anymore. _I miss you. The old you._

Watching the video just refreshes Koyama's feelings that yes, he's changed, but not that much. Just a bit of growing up, looking more serious for news every.

He doesn't get much sleep that night.

A few days later he reads Yamapi's latest jweb entry. It's about reading, a day after Koyama had made a post about reading. He tries not to read anything into it, and when his birthday comes and the hours pass without a happy birthday message from Yamapi, he starts to decide he was right not to.

He gets home from a nice night out with friends at around midnight, feeling generally good about life. It’s about an hour after that that his phone rings.

 _Yamapi_ , says the caller ID.

Turning in bed so that he’s facing the wall, like he needs to hide his facial expressions to protect his feelings, he answers.

“Happy birthday,” Yamapi says, voice hesitant. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Thanks,” Koyama replies. He waits—if that was all Yamapi wanted to say, he’d have sent a text message.

There’s a long pause, and then, “I miss you.”

Koyama presses his free hand against the wall. “Which me?”

“Both,” Yamapi says. “Just, you.”

Koyama stays silent, trying to process this, and Yamapi continues in a small voice. “Could we try again?”

“Yamapi,” Koyama sighs. “It won’t be the same, you know.”

He doesn’t want to open up to Yamapi again only to go through the same pain all over again.

“No, I know. I don’t want to go back, I want to go forward.”

It’s a typical inspirational Yamapi quote. Koyama doesn’t know what to do, so he consults with his mental Shige-voice, his go-to for advice when the real thing is around. It tells him it could end badly, but he’s obviously still in love and Shige’s really sick of watching him pine, so he should just say yes already.

So he does.


End file.
